Poetic, Inspirational Living

I was listening to Italian music today, which reminded me of my brief stint living in Italy. It brought to mind one particular recollection: the time I ducked out of a Venetian opera. I had been lying on the divan in the living room of my apartment, reading a copy of Sue Monk Kidd’s The Mermaid Chair. Reading in Venice is unlike reading anywhere else - you can hear water rushing beneath you if you are quiet enough to listen. Anyway, I was really enjoying myself when I remembered that I had purchased a ticket to the opera, and should probably get ready.

I dressed up and walked over to the Opera house, which was about 20 minutes away. I seated myself and read until they began. I soon learned that rather than being an actual opera, it was a collection of songs from different operas. So rather than following a storyline, I just listened to song after song, performed by people in wigs.

At intermission, I felt disappointed. I had wanted to follow a storyline like all the operas I had been to in the past. I hadn’t signed up for a concert. Then I had a thought: what I would really like to do is go home and read the rest of my book.

I immediately dismissed this as ridiculous. I can read any time I want to in America, so am I really going to waste an Italian evening on staying at home and reading? Eventually I decided that my happiness was more important than adhering to some arbitrary foreign country leisure activity policy, and I trotted home happily, book in arm.

There is a moral in there somewhere, I’m sure. I recall the story whenever I feel obligated to do things I don’t want to, just because I am “supposed to.” Life is short. I think, barring serious obligations, we are all “supposed to” do what makes us happy.

*Photo taken by April D. Boland, (c) 2006.